


A Real Bad Joke

by Drindrak



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Horror, Attempted Murder, Bad Jokes, Blood and Gore, Cedric is Two-Face, Chemicals, Dark Character, Dark Harry Potter, Draco is The Penguin, Dudley is Bane, F/F, F/M, Ginny is Harley Quinn, Harry is The Joker, Hermione is Catwoman, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Dealing, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Luna is Batgirl/Oracle, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Murder, Neville is Poison Ivy, Occasional Romance, Percy is The Riddler, Ron is Batman, Sadism, dark humour, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1354405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drindrak/pseuds/Drindrak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all just a really bad joke. The kind of humour the new Harry Potter decided he liked. Year 3 AU. OOC, OC, Dark Humour and Themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [NU: The Killing Joke](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/41557) by 26-Lord-Pain. 



> Harry is a combination of Heath Ledger's Joker, Jack Nicholson's Joker, and Scott McClure's (TheJokerBlogs) Joker.

_“Give me just enough information so that I can lie convincingly.” -- Stephen King_

Chapter 1: Smile

Harry lay on his bed, angrily thinking over what had happened in the past few hours. Aunt Marge, though she had no relation to him, had come four whole weeks earlier than she was supposed to. Boy, did she surprised everyone! Harry had been tending the garden when he heard that familiar dog bark and snappy voice, and he ran inside to tell the family that she was in the drive, paying the cab fare. Vernon had stormed out of the house and almost shouted at her! Harry had to admit, that was funny. But she had come before he could clean the house completely, making the Dursley's angry at _him_. He rolled onto his side and huffed. It wasn't his fault Marge didn't follow the Plan. She's the one who came early! How was he supposed to know that she'd be there that day? _'With your damned freakiness boy!'_   Vernon had shouted at him, before he all but threw Harry into his room. His green eyes snapped to the door when a plate was shoved through the cat-flap installed in it. Harry sighed. At least he was getting full plates this time around. At the end of his first year, he barely got scraps. He forced himself to get off of his bed and walk across the room. He picked up the plate and made his way to the small desk in the corner of the room. He placed the plate on it, and flopped back down onto his bed. He wasn't very hungry. Harry rolled onto his side again, and stared at the wall, bored. Why couldn't the Weasley's come get him like they did before?

* * *

 

Harry glared at his bedroom's ceiling from his spot in his desk chair. _'Stupid Aunt Marge,'_   He thought, kicking his legs. _'why does she never follow the Plan? Stupid Schemers always have a Plan! She's a Dursley, the Dursleys always follow the same stupid scheming Plan!'_   He blinked. Where had that rant come from? Harry shook his head, and returned his attention to the point at hand. Marge had up and left that day, not even two days after she arrived. She was supposed to stay a week, though she had the excuse of needed to care for her “Babies.” 'They're just stupid mutts.' Vernon blamed him for her leaving, though he had no interaction with the family aside from whoever pushed plates through his door. But no! In Vernon's puny mind, Harry's freakishness had made his sister up and leave! Harry licked his suddenly dry lips, and reached for one of his inkwells and a quill. Perhaps if he wrote to the Weasley's, they'd come for him?

* * *

 

He hadn't sent the letter he wrote yesterday. September 1st was only three weeks away, after all. He could wait it out, he did it before. Harry ripped the letter into pieces, and leaned back in his chair. Besides, the Weasley's were petty schemers too, following Dumbledore's stupid Plan. If he wrote them, he probably wouldn't get a response anyways. They never responded last year. Perhaps that was part of Dumbledore's Plan? To isolate him. Yes, it made sense. Dumbledore was one of the worst schemers... but why does he want Harry isolated? Harry sighed, unable to think of a suitable reason why the headmaster wanted him all alone. _'Stupid schemers don't need a reason...'_

* * *

 

It had been four whole days since he'd been trapped in his room. Harry lay awake, thinking. It was nearing three in the morning. Or, Harry thought it was. He didn't exactly have a clock in his room, and he wasn't adept at reading the moon to tell time. Hell, he didn't even remember the date. Had it really been four days he'd been imprisoned? Or had it been longer? Or perhaps it had only been a day? When had Marge left? Harry knew she had left at least a couple of days ago. He had counted the number of times the sun rose. Then again, that wasn't a reliable way of differentiating how the days passed. Harry frowned, and sat up, allowing his dishevelled black hair fall in front of his eyes. He should ask for a clock- an alarm clock, one of the ones that displayed the date. _'Sometimes,'_ Harry thought, moving himself off of his bed to pace the room. _'I think that everyone's a schemer. It's like a big, bad, joke. One that no one finds funny!'_ Harry blinked, and slowly started to smile, a giggle rising in his throat. _'Yes! Of course, that's it! It's all a joke, a really bad joke! Being treated like a slave, only to find out I'm a Wizard! But the punchline, what's the punchline?'_ Harry's smile dropped. What was the punchline?

* * *

 

_'Death.'_ The word came to him the next night. He heard the Dursley's laughing, watching the television. Harry felt himself start to smile again. _'Death. Death, death, death, death! Their death, everyone's death, my death, that's the punchline!'_ He smothered a laugh, and sat down on the edge of his bed. _'Hehehe, of course that's the punchline! Silly schemers thought that they could muck about in this really bad joke and come out living?'_ More laughter built up in him. _'No, no, no! They can't! Because they can't see the funny side!'_ Harry didn't bother trying to smother the manic laugh that burst from him. It wasn't that loud, at first, and it blended in with the Dursley's laughter. After a few minutes, the Dursley's stopped laughing, but Harry hadn't. It was just so damn hilarious! His laughter increased in volume, and he vaguely heard the television being turned down.

“BOY! Shut that laughter up!” Harry let his laughter die off into giggles. He stood, a hand now covering his mouth to hush himself, and stumbled towards the door of his room. He tried to open it, but it was still locked. That only served to make Harry fall into another round of loud giggles. He pounded on the door, slamming his full weight into it.

“Now now, this isn't funny at all. Can't let them keep me locked up, that's part of the Plan, gotta get outta this room, gotta introduce a little anarchy to their silly Plan...” Harry said, kicking the door roughly. With one last kick, the door blew right off it's hinges, surprising Harry a little. “Magic, magic's gotta have done something to my leg...”

“BOY! Stop that ruckus!” “Alright!” Harry shouted, making his way down the staircase.

“Heeheheheehe...” He got to the last step before his Uncle came to see what he had been doing.

“Boy! What are you doing out of your room!” His Uncle's watery eyes looked to the top of the stairs, where Harry's bedroom door lay. “You! You little-”

“Nah, nah, nah! Nuh-uh Uncle!” Harry waggled a finger at his Uncle as he dodged the man's poor lunge at him.

“What did you do!” Vernon shouted, leering intimidatingly at Harry, who just burst into giggles.

“Nuh-uh Unca' Verny! Can't let your silly little Plan ruin my fun!” His Aunt and Cousin were peeking out of the sitting room, watching the grown man glare at the giggling boy. “Nuh-uh, can't have that!” His giggles trailed off, and he frowned. “Say, wanna know how I ended up living with you?” Harry asked, staring at Vernon seriously. “You see, it was a dark Halloween night and-”

“I know how you came to be here you freak!” Harry glared.

“Now, that wasn't nice. You interrupted my story! It was a funny story!”

“Nothing you say is funny you damn freak!” His Cousin shouted, leaving the sitting room with a fist raised. Harry's frown deepened.

“Violence is funny though... so Dudders, you must see the funny side, yes?” Dudley gained a confused expression.

“Funny side? There ain't no funny side!” Harry sighed.

“Poor Dursley's, it's hopeless. Perhaps one day you'll see the funny side?” Harry tilted his head. “Wanna hear a really funny joke?” Before any of them could respond, Harry continued. “See, three men were in an alleyway, waiting for their dealer to show up. One man says, 'Where's da' guy?' and another responds, 'I dunno.' And the third guy, guess what he says!” Harry started giggling. “NOTHING!” He shouted. “The third guy says nothing, 'cause he's dead, the men murdered him for his wallet and watch!” Harry began laughing, as if the things he said was hilarious. After a minute or so, Harry noticed that the Dursley's weren't laughing or even smiling. “Why aren't you laughing? It was funny!”

“N-No it-”

“It was FUNNY! So laugh!” Harry shouted, getting angry at them. _'Why aren't they laughing! Everyone should be laughing, my joke was hilarious! They could've at least smiled!'_

“Y-You freak, you-”

“SMILE! LAUGH! Now!” Harry slammed a fist into the wall behind him, leaving a dent in it. He was scowling angrily now. Petunia stepped forward, gently ushering Dudley behind her.

“B-But you're not smiling...?” She said, trailing off into a question. Harry blinked. _'She's right, I'm not smiling, I don't find it funny either!'_ He slapped a hand to his mouth. How could he be so hypocritical? He wasn't smiling, no wonder they weren't too!

“I...I...” Harry breathed deep. How? How could he make himself smile? He saw his Uncle glance at the knives in the kitchen. Harry's eyes widened. _'Yes, yes, that's a way! But no, can't get to the knives in the kitchen. Gotta be another way, gotta be... razors, Uncle Vernon's razors!'_ Harry giggled and turned to the stairs. “You're right Aunt Petunia, I can't smile all the time... but I do know way I can!” He grabbed the railing and slowly made his way up the stairs.

* * *

 

Harry stared at himself in the mirror. He was smiling, but this smile could fade at any moment. He needed something that could last forever... he looked at the door. Stomping footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Harry reached over to the door, and locked it, before returning his attention to the mirror. ' _Something permanent, scars are pretty and permanent, 'cept the one on my head.'_ He thought, yanking open the medicine cabinet. He scanned the different shelves, but didn't see what he wanted. “Hmm... if I was a razor blade, where would I hide?” He muttered, closing the cabinet and opening the drawer under the sink. He grinned wide at the sight of a new package of razor blades. “Bingo! Come to daddy...” He snatched the package up, and ripped it open, spilling the blades into the sink. He turned on the tap, letting the water run over the blades, before picking one up. He smiled widely, a bubble of insane laughter coming from him, and brought it to his mouth, just as someone began pounding on the door.

* * *

 

Insane laughter could be heard coming from the washroom Harry was in. The Dursley's were huddled outside the door, waiting to see what the boy had done to himself. Why had Petunia's smile comment make him rush to the washroom and lock himself in? They whispered ideas to themselves as they thought about it.

“...razors. Razor blades!” Vernon shouted. Petunia gasped and Dudley just looked confused.

“Why's that a bad thing dad?”

“Hun, how about you head off to your room, okay?” Petunia said, pushing the youngest Dursley towards his room.

“But mum! I wanna know!”

“It's none of your business! Now, go to your ROOM!” Vernon said, ending with a shout. Dudley whined, but obeyed and left. Once his son was out of sight, Vernon knocked harshly on the washroom door. “BOY! What are you doing in there!” All he got in response was a grunt of pain and some more laughter. “BOY!”

“Vernon, you don't think he's...” Petunia started, not wanting to suggest that her nephew was really considering suicide. Vernon looked at her and shook his head.

“The boy snapped, you saw him. He thought his three guys story was a joke!” Petunia nodded.

“Well... he wouldn't... you know?” Before Vernon could respond, the door unlocked and opened. Her nephew stumbled out, laughing still, a bloodied hand covering his mouth. Petunia looked behind the boy, and sucked in short breath. The sink was filled with razor blades, the water in it red. The mirror was covered in red hand-prints. She did not want to know where all the red came from.

“Heeheeheeheheheheeehehe....” His laugh was muffled, and he tried to make his way around Vernon to his room.

“Boy! What did you do in there?!” Harry just laughed a little louder. “BOY!”

“I just-” He was interrupted by giggles. “I jus' wanna smile all the time!” He started laughing once again, dropping both his hands to his stomach. The two Dursley's were horrified at the rough cuts winding their way up the boy's face, forming a mockery of a smile. Harry swayed, his laughter subsiding. “But, ah, I don't feel right good anymore...” He collapsed, breathing roughly and still smiling.

“Pet, call an ambulance, he ain't recovering from this on his own...” Vernon said quietly, as Petunia rushed off to find the phone.

* * *

 

_“999, what's your emergency?”_

_“This is Petunia Dursley, Number 4 Privet Drive! My nephew, he slashed his face up! He's bleeding a lot, it won't stop! Please, we need an ambulance right away!”_

_“Don't worry ma'am, an ambulance is on it's way! Try to staunch the bleeding for now. Can you do that for me, ma'am?”_

_“Y-Yes, yes, I can...”_

* * *

 

“Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley?” A police officer asked, as he made his way towards the horrified couple. Vernon nodded.

“Yes officer?” The officer gestured to the ambulance that just started driving off.

“Your nephew, how did he get the wounds?”

“He did it to himself... said something 'bout always wanting to smile, something 'bout finally seeing the funny side of things. He went off his rocker, just 'cause we grounded him for the week...” The officer raised a brow. This was new. He never heard of a child who hurt himself just because he was grounded.

“Right. So your nephew, his name?”

“Harry. Harry Potter.” The officer wrote that down and nodded.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“He... he was laughing. He was laughing as he walked outta the bathroom, laughing that now he would always be smiling! I knew sending him to that fancy boarding school wasn't gonna help him!”

“Fancy boarding school?”

“Hog-something. They said it would be good for 'im. Well look at him!”

“I see. Well, the hospital will contact you once your nephew is out of surgery. I suggest taking him to a therapist, from what you told me, the boy has some issues.” Petunia sobbed. “Ma'am?”

“I just... I can't believe he'd do something like that to himself! He reminds me so much of my sister!” Vernon pulled her into a hug.

“It's alright Pet, he'll be fine...”

* * *

 

Vernon couldn't stop staring at his nephew from the rear-view mirror, as they drove home from the hospital. He had gone to pick up the boy from his four-day stay in the hospital. The doctors had told the police that the wounds were self-inflicted, and they dropped the charges against the Dursley's for Child Abuse. Vernon glanced in the mirror once again. Harry was sitting in the backseat, a white medical mask covering the lower half of his face, giggling. He was given a box of masks to give to Harry so that his wounds wouldn't become infected. The doctors told Vernon and Petunia that Harry would have the scars for the rest of his life. When they told Harry that, the boy just started laughing, exclaiming that he'd finally be able to smile all the time. It freaked the doctors out, but they had a job to do, as Harry had reopened his wounds.

“Ah, Unca' Verny, say, can we get some food?” Harry said, breaking Vernon from his memory. Vernon glanced in the mirror, and saw Harry looking directly at it.

“S-Sure. What do you want?” Harry giggled, having been forbidden from outright laughter for a long while, and pointed out the window.

“I want to go to the deli.”

“H-How about we pick some meat and bread up at the store and have sandwiches at home?” Vernon wouldn't admit it, but the way his nephew glared for a few seconds before shrugging frightened him.

“Hm, that's fine. Sure, why not? Maybe goin' to the deli is part of the Plan, and you wanna break from it?”

“Y-Yes, that's it, you caught me!” Vernon said, taking a right turn, heading for the grocery store. Harry giggled some more.

“I knew it! I knew you'd see the funny side! Or perhaps you just wanna not be seen with me and my smile?” Vernon shook his head.

“No, no, I see the funny side, I swear!” He knew the boy was smiling behind that mask.

“Great! Say, wanna hear a really funny joke?”

* * *

 

About three days later, Vernon came home from work later than usual, with a pale face. Harry glanced up from his spot on the couch, where he was watching Dudley fail at playing a video game. While he did hate white masks he had to wear, he knew that it was better than getting an infection. He smiled and leaned over the back of the couch.

“Ah, Unca' Verny! What's wrong?” Petunia, hearing Harry's question, poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Dear, what is it?” Vernon swallowed.

“My work, you know that annual tour of the Chemical Plant my company owns? You know, Axis Chemicals?” Petunia nodded.

“Yes, I remember. What of it?”

“Well, after hearing of the boy's freak out, they pushed the tour forward three weeks, so that he could come along and see the factory, tomorrow!” Harry raised his eyebrows. What is this annual tour? Sure, when he was younger there was a day when Dudley didn't go to school with him, but he thought it was just something Petunia did 'cause Dudders said he didn't want to go. Harry tuned back into the conversation after Vernon called his name. “Harry, boy, you are to wear your best clothes, you hear me? And make sure one of your masks are on, don't want no one seeing those cuts of yours!”

“But why Unca' Verny? My smile's just fine! Everyone'll smile once they see my smile!”

“Absolutely not!” Vernon shouted, before taking a deep breath and calming himself down. “Look, Harry, you remember what the doctors said. You have to keep your mask on, or else you might get an infection.” Harry sighed and nodded sadly.

“I know, I know Unca' Verny. But I don't wanna keep it on.”

“But you have to. Now, all of us, to bed. We need to get up early tomorrow for the tour!”

* * *

 

Harry stared up at the factory from the car window. He was in his best clothes; a simple green vest over top a blue shirt and a pair of purple slacks. His Uncle pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot, next to a bunch of other cars. Harry adjusted his mask and grumbled under his breath. ' _Why can't I just smile? All I wanna do is show people my smile. All the damn schemers get to see my smile, and then they'll smile, and then everyone will see the funny side! And the Plan will be ruined! The Joke will be shared forever!'_ He giggled and unbuckled his seat belt. He got out of the car, and followed his relatives into the factory.

“Dursley! You're here! Great, now we just have to wait for Smith and Fields to get here, and we can start!” A jovial man said, smiling widely at the family. “Oh? Is this your nephew?” He held a hand out to Harry. “Hiya sonny, I'm Floyd, Floyd Whittle. Nice to meet you!” Harry blinked and grabbed the hand.

“Harry Potter. Say, wanna hear a really funny joke?” Harry said, a grin forming on his face. Floyd shook his head with a smile.

“Sorry son, but I don't have time for jokes.” Vernon clapped a hand down on Harry's shoulder.

“Sorry 'bout that Whittle. I hope my nephew didn't bother you much?”

“Nah, he's a nice kid. Ah, Smith! You're here!” Floyd shouted, making his way to the front, where a brown haired, stocky man walked in. Harry pouted. No one wants to hear his jokes! And to think, the one he was gonna tell him was by far his funniest!

“Boy, no jokes. You have to be on your best behaviour here, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah Unca' Verny. Best behaviour, got it.” Harry scuffed his feet against the ground. He looked around the factory, before spotting a hidden staircase leading up to the catwalks about them. Harry glanced at the large vats of chemicals around him, and he wondered what colour the chemicals inside were. “Say, Unca' Verny, where's the washroom? I gotta go badly!” He lied, hopping from foot to foot. Vernon looked down at him and sighed.

“You see that sign there?” Vernon pointed at an arrow pointing down a hall. “Follow it and turn right at the end of the corridor. Got it?” Harry nodded and raced off down the hall. He looked over his shoulder, and saw everyone talking with each other, and not paying any attention to him. He smiled and sneaked over to the staircase. Looking once more at the group behind him, he began climbing the stairs.

* * *

 

Green. Green chemicals, wasn't that funny? Stereotypical green chemicals. Harry giggled as he stared down into the large vat. He was standing on the catwalk, high above the group of squabbling people. He leaned further over the rail, and sniffed the air. _'Gross! Smells so funny, hehehehe! I wonder if it tastes just as funny?'_ He started laughing quietly to himself, feeling his wounds pull and start bleeding a little. _'Keheehehehehee! Oopsy, I didn't follow the doctors orders! Poor doctors, I ruined their Plan!'_ Harry climbed on top of the rail, and sat on it, grinning down at the chemicals.

“HEY! KID! What are you doing up there!” Someone shouted at him, making Harry nearly jump out of his skin. He fell forward, and choked on a scream. He grabbed hold of the edge of the catwalk, and felt air brush across his mouth. _'Air?'_ He raised a hand to his mouth to cover it. _'Uh-oh, not good, nuh-uh, not at all!'_ His mask had fallen off, and was now floating mockingly atop the green chemicals.

“Oh, oh no, my mask, uh-oh, I ruined the Plan further, oopsy...” He muttered, smiling down at the mask.

“Kid! Are you alright! Here, give me your hands!” Harry glanced up, and spotted one of the workers reaching out for him. The worker grabbed the arm that was holding onto the catwalk, and held out a hand expectantly. “C'mon kid, give me your hand. I don't bite!” The man joked, and Harry giggled. ' _Finally, someone who can make a joke in this place!'_ Harry weighed his options. On one hand, he could let the man drag him up by one arm, possibly hurting him, well on the other, he could give him his hand and show him his smile... Harry grinned, and slowly moved his hand away from his mouth.

“Thank you mistah.” Harry said, lifting his head to stare at the man.

“Ack!” The man jumped back at the sight of his smile, letting go of Harry's hand in the process. Harry barely had time to frown slightly before his grip loosened. _'Oh, he doesn't like my smile. He doesn't see the funny side! Darn, and I rather liked him...'_ Harry felt his grip droop and he started laughing, frightening the man even more. “C'MON! Can't you see the funny SIDE?!” Harry shouted, laughing, before he let go of the catwalk. He continued laughing as people screamed. He continued to laugh as he plunged deep into the green chemicals. He continued laughing as his vision blackened.

* * *

 

“HARRY!” Petunia screamed, seeing her nephew fall from the catwalk into the vat of chemicals. Vernon stood, frozen, Dudley screaming at his side. People started shouting and screaming loudly as one of the workers pushed an alarm button and started shutting down the factory.

“Please evacuate the building. Calmly evacuate the building please.” An automated voice rang out through the intercom, and people started shoving to get out of the building.

“Pet, come on, we gotta go!” Vernon urged, pulling Petunia towards the exit.

“But Harry!” Vernon shook his head.

“Pet, it's too late! He's gone! And we gotta go!” Petunia allowed her husband to drag her and their son out of the building. Sirens echoed in the distance, indicating that the police were on their way.

* * *

 

In a large castle in the woods of Scotland, a bearded man sat in a large chair, sipping a cup of warmed milk. The man relaxed contently in his chair, as he read over the finalized lesson plans from his staff.

“Mister Dumbly sir, Mippy brings cookies!” A small house-elf popped into the room, and the man, Dumbledore, smiled.

“Thank you Mippy. Set them on the desk, please.” The house-elf nodded and did so, before popping away, most likely back to the kitchens. Dumbledore smiled and grabbed a cookie, absently nibbling on it as he flipped over one of the pages before him. “Hm, Minerva has changed her plans for Transfiguration this year.” He said as he read over what she had wrote. “I don't see anything wrong with it. Approved!” He signed the bottom of the page, and set it to the side to give to her later. As he reached for the next lesson plan, an alarm sounded loudly through the room. Dumbledore jumped to his feet and grabbed a small silver trinket from the shelf behind him. This small trinket was the one he used to monitor Harry Potter's health. The only time it would sound out it's alarm was if the boy had.... died. Dumbledore's eyes widened, and he dropped the trinket, breaking it into several pieces. It couldn't be. Harry should be with his relatives in their home, happy and safe, if a bit miffed because he wasn't at Hogwarts! Dumbledore grabbed a sock that he kept to the side in case of a Port-Key emergency. “ _Portus_.” He said, tapping his wand to the sock. The spell was designed to take him to the closest muggle-free place at Harry's last known location. A sharp tug came at his naval, and he found himself behind what looked like a recently abandoned factory. As he made his way around the side of the building, he transfigured his robes into a hot pink muggle suit. He looked around at all the people gathered in front of the factory, and spotting the Dursley's off to the side, their eyes wide in horror. Dumbledore frowned and started making his way towards them.

* * *

 

A pale hand shot out of the chemicals in the vat, grabbing hold of the ladder rungs embedded in the side of it. A thin bodied boy pulled himself out of the chemicals, a confused, yet deranged, smile on his face, pulling at the scars on his cheeks. The boy's once black hair was now mostly green, and his green eyes shone brighter than ever before. He licked his lips and, quick as he could, pulled himself out of the vat and down to the ground.

“....hmm? Where am I?” He said, brushing off the remaining green goop that clutched onto him. “What's my name? I'm pretty sure it's Harry, but why is it that? What is my surname?” He wondered out loud, heading towards a small door in the side of the factory, a bright red sign saying exit above it. Harry tilted his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, well, such a thing as a surname would be part of the Plan. Heh, the name Harry ain't to snazzy. I need a new one...” He pushed open the door and, stumbling ever so slightly, made his way towards the large city in the distance.

* * *

 

“Mr and Mrs Dursley!” Dumbledore shouted, making his way towards the couple and their child. Petunia was shaking and Vernon kept glancing at the building behind them. “Please, tell me, what happened to Harry?” The two glanced at each other and Vernon nodded.

“Mr.... ah, your name is again?”

“Dumbledore.”

“Mr. Dumbledore, Harry, uh, well, he wasn't very... okay for the past few weeks.” Dumbledore frowned.

“How so? When he left Hogwarts, he was fine.” Dumbledore vaguely noticed that a police officer had walked up, and was listening to their conversation, jotting down a few notes.

“Um, he... mentally, something in him snapped, err, we think. You see, he and my sister, Marge, never got on. And she was set to visit this week, but she came earlier than expected.” Dumbledore nodded. “She and Harry had a row, and we grounded him for a week. My sister left the next day, as she needed to take care of her dogs at home. Harry sat in his room, and we only saw him when we brought him some food. He never wanted to come out, you see.” The lie slid off Vernon's tongue easily, and Dumbledore had no idea that he was lying. “Then one night, a few days ago, he just... he just started laughing. And laughing and laughing. He wouldn't stop! He broke his door down, and stumbled downstairs, still laughing, and he... he tells us this horrible story that he thinks was a joke!” Dumbledore furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Story?” Vernon gulped and Petunia shook her head.

“He said... he said, 'You wanna hear a funny joke?' and he started giggling before continuing, 'Three men are waiting for their dealer in an alley. One man says where is this guy and the other says that he doesn't know,' and Harry... it's what he said next that's horrible. Harry asked us, 'Guess what the third guy said!' and then he shouted, 'nothing! The third guy said nothing, 'cause he's dead! The other two murdered him for his watch and wallet!' and then Harry just... Harry just started laughing even more...” Dumbledore's eyes widened. “He asked us why we weren't laughing or smiling, and then P-Pet said that he couldn't keep smiling either... and the boy... Harry, he cut his face up, like those Chelsea Smile killings! It was horrible! He was bleeding out but all he did was smile and laugh! We took him to the hospital. And my boss, he asked us to come on the tour of this here building,” Vernon pointed to the factory. “after hearing of Harry's freak out. Harry asked where the bathroom was and I told him, but he somehow ended up on the catwalk that overlooked the chemical waste that was getting ready for removal.” Dumbledore gave a slight nod. He didn't quite know what a chemical was, but from what Severus had told him, it was kind of like a potion. “A worker accidentally startled Harry, and he fell off the catwalk, right into the chemicals. No one could stop him... but, he... Harry, he was laughing. As he fell into the chemicals and.... d-died, he was laughing, laughing like a lunatic!” The police officer soothed the estranged man, and, nodding to Dumbledore, lead them towards an ambulance. Dumbledore frowned and looked up at the factory. He gave a quick glance around, and, making sure no one was looking, took out his wand and pointed it at the factory.

“ _Homenum Revelio!_ ” Nothing happened. There was no one in the factory. Dumbledore felt a tear run down his cheek. Harry Potter really was no more.

* * *

 

Harry walked as straight as he could as he let his feet lead him through the large city, which he found out was London, England. He smoothed down his vest, and absently wondered why he was wearing such nice clothes. The chemical factory he woke up in appeared to be vacated, and he heard nothing but sirens in the distance when he left. Perhaps he was in the middle of some sort of bad deal and someone knocked him into the chemical vat. He had stared at his reflection in a store window. The chemicals messed with his hair, head, and smile, though he really rather liked his smile. He felt like something was missing from his forehead, however. The only thing there was a small scar that was barely a half-inch across. Harry distinctly remembered it being large and more prominent, shaped like something. But what? He started walking again, and eventually came to a stop outside of a dingy pub. Harry looked around, and noted that no one seemed to pay the pub much attention. Once again smoothing out his vest, Harry entered the pub.

“Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron! Do you need help getting into the alley?” Harry nodded, keeping his head down so the man didn't see his smile yet. “Well, I can help you with that! Just follow me, okay?” The man gestured for him to follow as he lead him through a side door into an alley. _'Oh, no, nuh-uh, I don't think this is how it's supposed to be...'_ The man got out a stick and tapped a brick. Harry raised a brow, only to be amazed when the wall broke apart and revealed a larger alley. “Here you go sonny, Diagon Alley!” The man smiled down at him, and Harry decided that right then was a good time to show him his smile.

“Thank you, mistah. Say, wanna know how I got these... scars?” Harry asked, a grin tugging at his lips. The man backed away, eyes wide. Harry picked up a piece of a shattered bottle off the ground, and smiled at the man. “Ya' see, my alcoholic Uncle, he didn't like me much. And one day, he comes home drunker than usual. Aunty Petty pleads with him to just go lie down, but he won't have it. He grabs a knife from the kitchen, and stabs her!” Harry had to stop himself from laughing. “And then he turns to me. He asks me, 'Why aren't you smiling?' and he comes closer, knife in hand,” Harry said, as he moves closer to the horrified man, who tripped over a stone as he tried to back away more. “and then he says, 'Why so serious?' and he puts the knife in my mouth,” Harry continued, leaning down over the man, placing the broken bottle in the man's mouth. Harry let his other hand reach out and grab a shard of glass, which he brought to the man's neck. “and he says, 'Let's put a smile on that face!' and he cuts my face up!” Harry starts laughing as he slit the man's throat and carved a grin into the poor man's face. “Hahahaha, oh, heheheheheee!” Harry's laughter faded into giggles, and he wiped the blood off his vest. His nose wrinkled up in disgust. “Ah, now see what ya' did. I need a new vest!” Harry kicked the dead man away, and made his way into Diagon Alley. He was surprised that no one had heard or seen them. He assumed the odd barrier like thing that was hidden as the wall prevented people from looking out.

* * *

 

Harry let his feet guide him through the alley. He eventually came to a stop outside of a large golden white building. “Gringotts Bank. Why, ain't that a fancy shmancy name for a bank?” He chuckled at the poem hanging above the door and entered the bank. He spotted a bunch of tiny, weird looking men, and smiled a bit wider.

“Welcome to Gringotts Bank. How may I help you?” A teller asked, not bothering to look up. Harry huffed and ran a hand through his green and black hair.

“I wanna know if I has a vault here. Ya' see, I've had a bit of a memory problem recently.” The teller looked up and almost choked.

“A-Ah, Mister Potter, welcome.” Harry frowned. 'Potter? What kind of stupid schemer name is that? That has got to go, gotta start my anarchy somewhere.'

“Ya' see, I don't like my name anymore. So I'm changing it. D'you think I can change my vault name, mistah?” The teller nodded.

“Yes, it won't take much. What is your... new name?” Harry had to think on that. What was his new name? _'Well, I do like to make jokes. I think Joker is a great name. Joker.... Jo Ker.... Joe Kerr...'_ Harry started giggling. “Mister Pott-”

“No, no, no! My name ain't Potter no more, call me Mistah Kerr. Joe Kerr. Joker, get it? 'Cause I'm a Joker! I'm The Joker!” Harry started laughing. The teller gave a small smile to please the boy. “See! See, ya' get it! You see the funny side! No one else sees the funny side...” Harry trailed off.

“Well, Mister Kerr, your vaults will have their names changed within the week, upon which you'll receive a new key and your old keys will be destroyed.” Harry grinned, his scars tugging roughly at the movement.

“Great! Fantastic! D'you know where I can get some custom clothes?” Harry licked his lips as the teller told him about some shop name Malkin's down the road. “Good. Say, wanna hear a really funny joke?” The teller raised a brow.

“A joke, Mister Kerr?”

“Yes, yes, a really funny one. Wanna hear it?” The teller shrugged.

“Why not, Mister Kerr.”

“Ah, call me Joker.” Harry said, and the teller nodded. “Now, two Wizards are blasted by green spells, and both fall over. Guess what they are?” Harry snickered at the teller's slightly confused look. “DEAD!” Harry started laughing. “Dead, dead, dead, 'cause they were hit by a _killer_ curse!” The teller gave a bark of laughter. “Ahahaha! See, see! It's hilarious!”

“Indeed it is Mister Kerr. May I share your joke with some of my comrades?”

“Go ahead! Maybe they'll see the funny side too!” Harry continued laughing as he walked out of the bank. He ignored the looks he was getting, and made his way towards the Malkin's shop the teller had told him about.

* * *

 

He stared through the shop's windows before deciding to go in. The inside was just as cheery looking as the outside, making Harry start snickering. Oh, it would be funny to see it in pieces! The thought of the store exploding into pieces sent him into a fit of giggles.

“Welcome dearie! Hogwarts?” A woman asked, coming out from the back room. Harry frowned. What was a Hogwart? Some sort of pig acne?

“No, I need custom, non-labelled clothes. Can ya' do that for me, missy?” The woman nodded, and gestured for him to stand in a cleared corner.

“Yes, I can. What kind of clothes are you looking for?” Harry motioned to what he was currently wearing.

“Clothes like these, you see, 'cause I need them to bring anarchy to the... Plan.” The woman frowned in confusion.

“Plan?”

“Never you mind, you don't see the funny side yet.” She just nodded and sent a tape measure to record his sizes. Harry waited patiently for her to finish the job. It didn't take long, only about two hours, to get six outfits that looked exactly like the one he was wearing. _'Magic, that's what it's like. Real funny if you ask me!'_ He snickered to himself. “Say, do you think I can get a long purple coat to go over it all? Ya' know what, make two coats.” She nodded and set to work making the coats. After about forty minutes, she held up the finished product. ' _About three to make six outfits and two coats. Why, that's real bloody fast. It's still pretty funny...'_

“Here you go son.” She gave him a wrapped package. Harry grinned, drawing her attention to his scars. “O-Oh...”

“Thank you missy. Say, wanna hear a real funny joke?”

“S-Sure...” Harry started chuckling.

“Well, there was this nice lady who made clothes. She made really nice, custom clothes, mainly for wizards. And one day, she finds herself on the floor, with no pay for her latest job! Wanna know why?” The woman shook and started backing away from the now sinisterly grinning Harry. “It went something like-” He ran forwards, and slammed the package into her head, sending her sprawling to the ground. “THIS!” Harry burst out laughing. “Ya' see! It's funny!” Harry stopped laughing once he saw that she was unconscious. “Ah, damn, knew that'd happen.” Harry stuck the package under an arm, and left the building. “I still think the building would look so nice in pieces.” He said, as he walked down the now darkened alley towards the exit. He briefly wondered, as he passed through the barrier into an empty alleyway and out into London, if someone had found that one man's body.

* * *

 

Harry, dressed in one of his new outfits, kicked back in the chair he sat in, placing his legs on the desk in front of him. He glanced out the large window to his left, and grinned down at nighttime London. He looked over at the old, dark brown vanity table off to the side. A couple of buckets of stolen face paint sat on it, stolen from a costume shop a few minutes down the road, waiting for him to open them and use them. The only colours he had stolen, however, were white, black, and red. He pushed away from the desk and sat normally. His hands snatched a playing card off the table. A picture of clown was in the middle of it, and the word Joker was written twice up and down on it. He stood from his chair, and made his way towards the window. He stared out at the stragglers and alcoholics littering the streets, and smiled wide. “Tell me, London. Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?” He let out an insane cackle that could be heard echoing inside of the abandoned office building he was in, and out onto the London streets.


	2. Poison Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville has a job to do for this 'Joker' guy. And a mission. He has to save the plants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline wise, for those wondering, Harry became the Joker during the summer before third year. This chapter mainly stays within third year and summer before fourth year. Next chapter will be fourth year and a bit of fifth, and so on.

" _ **Death is the dropping of the flower, that the fruit may swell."  
― Henry Ward Beecher **_

Chapter 2: Poison Touch

* * *

" _ **HARRY POTTER, BOY-WHO-LIVED-TO-GO-MAD, DEAD!**_

_Author: Rita Skeeter_

_Today, the Wizarding World got the shock of their lives. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, died yesterday in a freak accident at a muggle chemical plant, after slashing his face up (sourced by nearby muggles and muggle healers who treated the boy). The young Potter had been standing above some of the chemicals (chemicals are like the muggle form of potions), and had fallen into them. Albus Dumbledore rushed straight to the ministry after getting the full story from Mr. Potter's relatives. Mr. Potter apparently snapped, threatening his relatives on multiple occasions and making up rather disturbing jokes about killing and murder. This reporter is told that, as he fell into the chemicals, Mr. Potter was laughing, yelling something about the "funny side," whatever that means... young Mr. Potter's death was far to accidental to be a coincidence to me. Last Hogwart's school year, he had opened the mythical Chamber of Secrets and saved the youngest Weasley from a Basilisk, all by himself with just the Sorting Hat and a Sword, a feat that would be something extraordinary from an adult, let alone a child. Perhaps one of the still-loose Death Eaters wanted revenge, and pushed Mr. Potter into the chemicals, while he was still to magically exhausted to fight back?_

_Did the pressure we, the entire Wizarding World, place on his shoulders break Mr. Potter? Why had we relied on a young child, barely even a teenager, to fight a grown man more than thrice his age? I say it's time we avenge the young man, and take down You-Know-Who ourselves. I hope that everyone agrees with me._

_For more information on Harry James Potter, turn to Page 4._

_For more information on Mr. Potter's tragic death, turn to Page 6."_

* * *

Neville sank into the Hogwart's Express' plush seating, on his way home for Winter Break, and reread the article that Rita Skeeter had sent out three months ago. The Headmaster had told everyone in Hogwarts the night of the Sorting about Harry's death, mere minutes before Rita's article was flown out. Several people started crying at the news, Harry's two best friends and Neville himself included. Poor Ginny Weasley had taken the news harsh, and fainted, forcing McGonagall to use the Body Levitating charm to transport her to the Hospital Wing. Neville sniffled. Harry didn't deserve to die, especially so soon. The child, no, the young man, who defeated Voldemort several times, once as a baby, had died because of careless muggles. Neville wiped his eyes and sank even further into his seat. He missed Harry. He missed his friend so much. The empty feeling he had was a lot like the one he felt when his gran and him visited his parents in St. Mungos. Only, it was hugely multiplied. Like someone twisted a knife deep into his heart and left it there. Maybe it was that way because he had actually _**known**_ Harry, where as he never really knew who his parents were before they were declared unfit for guardianship. Neville felt like sobbing. How was it that he missed a boy his age more than he missed his parents? Neville was tempted to locate Hermione and ask her, but he knew it was a bad idea. She wasn't taking Harry's death any better than he was, and she most likely didn't know the answer.

* * *

Neville barely noticed when the train pulled to a stop in Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He shakily stood, grabbing his things, and dragged them haphazardly behind him as he exited. His gran, upon spotting him leaving the train, gave him a pitiful look; a common look he got- one that made a hateful feeling rise in him. She grabbed his trunk from him and shrunk it, before giving it back to him to place in his pocket. Neville blinked and rubbed his eyes. They felt like they were burning. He should have expected that. He hadn't had a good night's rest for months, ever since Harry's death had been announced, and when he did fall asleep, it was from crying himself into the state. The atmosphere in the station felt heavier than usual, as if everyone was saddened that there was no Harry Potter anymore, no one left to save them from Voldemort. Neville had heard, second-hand from a whispered conversation Percy Weasley had with the sixth years, that the goblins closed down the Potter accounts, seizing all their gold and items before giving out the vault numbers to some other wizard, some Kerr guy. It was just another added reason to believe that Harry wasn't going to come through the barrier, smiling, as if everything had been a big, bad joke. Neville snorted. Oh, how he wished it was only a big, bad, joke.

"Come along Neville. Let's go home." Neville's gran interrupted his musing. He nodded, and followed her to the floo connection. "Here Neville, you head on home first. You remember what to say?" His gran asked, as she held out the bucket of green floo-powder. _'Green... Harry had green eyes...'_ Neville sniffled once again and nodded, grabbing a handful.

"Longbottom Manor!" He said, throwing the powder down into the flames, before stepping through and being sucked away from the station.

* * *

Neville shot out of the sitting room fireplace in Longbottom Manor, covered in soot. He moved away from the fireplace before brushing himself off as best he could while he waited for his gran to come through. He made his way to the windowsill, where his gran had placed a few of his more easily cared for plants. He ran a hand over their leaves with a smile. Oh, how he enjoyed the company that plants provided him. They weren't as deceptive as people were, they didn't have ulterior motives, and they most definitely did not want to kill you purposely.

"...sorry I haven't been by, baby. Been at Hogwarts." He muttered, picking up a small red flower from the windowsill. This one flower was, by far, the one he liked the most, since it's entire species rested on the one. He inherited it from his mother, who had been trying, unsuccessfully, to recreate the species. Neville was surprised the small flower had survived this long. Most flowers wilted after just a few months. "I missed you. I'll tell you all about my year so far once I get to the greenhouse, okay?" Neville smiled down to the flower, and he swore he saw it nod at him. Carefully as he could, Neville held the flower in one hand, while his other searched around in his pockets for one of his self-inking quills. He jotted down a quick note to his gran before he walked through the house towards the back doors, intent on heading to his private greenhouse- the one his gran gave him once he finally displayed some semblance of accidental magic.

* * *

Neville made sure to lock the door behind him. Several of his plants would run, yes run, out the door if given the chance. He placed the small red flower down next to a couple of magically bred bright green coloured roses, which flashed to a bright bubbly blue upon sensing him, and picked up an always-full watering can. He turned a small dial on the spout, resizing the can into a much smaller one, and set about watering the shorter plants of his. He smiled at each one, mumbling a hello as he went around. He flicked the dial up, making the can return to it's normal size, before approaching the larger plants.

"Neville! Neville Longbottom, you get out here and into the house this instant!" His gran shouted, making him jump and over-water one of his larger plants. He cursed in a manner a lot unlike himself, and started scooping the excess water out with his hands. "Do you hear me! Neville!" Neville ground his teeth together, but continued to ignore the older woman, in hopes that she'd leave soon. He heard her sigh, and he knew he won their rather one-sided fight. Neville gently patted the over-watered plant.

"I'm sorry, I really am. She frightened me. I didn't mean to over-water you..." He apologized over and over until he felt satisfied that the plant had heard him and forgave him. He set the watering can down after he finished watering the plants that needed to be, and grabbed a pair of pruning shears. The house elves always forgot to prune his Creeping Willow. But that was probably because only Neville could get anywhere near the plant without getting hurt or the tree running off in fright. "Now, where is that silly tree?" The tree must have heard him, as it came crawling towards the front with an almost gleeful gait. "Hello my pretty tree. How are you today?" The tree bobbed up and down, before sitting perfectly still and letting Neville approach. "Do your excess twigs itch? I'm going to remove them, alright?" The tree seemed to shudder as Neville slowly started snipping off little pieces and branches. The job took him less time than he thought it would, because he was down less than fifteen minutes later. "All done! Thanks for sitting still for me." The tree shook it's branches, a gesture Neville had come to learn was it's way of thanking him, and scuttled back towards the damper side of the greenhouse.

* * *

Neville pulled a rickety old chair up to the small desk off to the side of the greenhouse, away from all the plants. He grabbed one of the planting boxes filled with magical roses, and gently set it down on the desk. He needed to check the roses for any sign of disease or frost-bite, as the greenhouse had fallen rather cold for the past few days. He had been locked up in his greenhouse, which he had taken to calling _home,_ for almost two weeks now. Winter Break was over in two days, not that Neville had any wish to leave his home. Neville, as gently as he could, prodded the roses, before he bent them just a little to check their stems and leaves.

"Neville? Neville, please, come out of there." His gran said, startling him. He cut himself on one of the magical roses' thorns and hissed in pain. The rose flashed a deep, angry red before returning to its original, soothing green. "Neville? Neville, Winter Break is almost over. You have to head back to Hogwarts!" Neville took a deep breath.

"...I'm not going." He said, just loud enough for his gran to hear him. He heard her gasp.

"But Neville! Your magical education is important!" Neville shook his head, and returned his attention to the roses, meticulously checking each plant twice. "Neville..." He barely heard his gran say, before the frosty grass that surrounded his home crunched as she walked away. Neville moved the plants off to the side and huffed.

"I don't need her. I don't need Hogwarts. All I need are my plants." He smiled down at the roses, and stood, intent on grabbing the next batch that needed to be checked.

* * *

"Heeheheheheee... dodadoodadoodada..." The green and black-haired teen hummed to himself as he jimmied a couple of bent paperclips into a lock. Green eyes narrowed in frustration. "Ah, c'mon ya damned lock. Open for daddy..." A small click made him grin, the red-painted scars that ran up the sides of his face tugging at the motion. "Pin-pon! There we go!" The door before him swung open, revealing a thriving jungle of plants. "Wow, I gotta say Nev, ya' really know how to take care of plants." Harry said, skipping into the greenhouse and kicking the door shut behind him. He headed towards the desk in the corner first, and placed a small envelope on it. The envelope simply proclaimed, _'Open me!'_ and contained some rather... personal information on the greenhouse's owner's grandmother. Because if simply asking the young man for help didn't work out, then bribery would! "Nev~! Neville-smeville, were are ya'?" Harry called, skipping deeper into the greenhouse. _'Where is the boy? I have an extremely important proposition for him!'_ Harry peeked around bushes and under tables, before he heard a soft snore come from behind the tree to his left. "Nevy-boy, you're sleepin'? Nah, that won't do." He made to move around the tree, when it struck out at him. Harry giggled and danced around the swinging branches. "Ah, c'mon mistah tree, stop that, would ya'? I gotta speak with Nevy-boy, it's _im-por-tant-ah_!" Harry said, angrily stressing the syllables of the word. The tree stopped its attack, and let Harry pass by him. Harry smirked and strutted up to the sleeping Neville. "Nevy-boy, hey, Nevy-boy, wakey-wakey!" He knelt down and poked the other boy in the side roughly. "Nevy-boy~!" Harry frowned a little. "Aw, ya' don't wanna wake up for me? Then I guess I'll just have'ta wait!" Harry hopped to his feet and scampered off to the front of the greenhouse, dragging a chair back with him. He positioned the chair in way that he'd be the first thing Neville saw when he awoke before sitting down and grinning. "Don't worry, I've got plenty of time to waste!" He started laughing, a laugh that only increased in volume as he saw the tree from before start shaking in fear.

* * *

Neville shifted and groaned. What time had he fallen asleep at? It must have been well past three in the morning. He raised a hand to his throbbing head, and slowly sat up. And that's when he heard it. Quiet, almost muffled laughter was coming from in front of him. Neville opened his eyes, and immediately spotted the source of the sounds. A green-haired boy sat before him, amused bright green eyes staring into his from the boy's black rimmed eye sockets, dressed impeccably in a green vest and purple coat and pants. Neville's attention was quickly drawn to his the red-painted scars winding up his cheeks. If it weren't for the fact that this boy had green hair, cheek scars, no lightning bolt forehead scar, and no glasses on, Neville would've thought that Harry Potter himself was back from the dead right in front of him.

"Who-" Neville started, and the boy dashed forwards and grasped at Neville's chin.

"Nah-uh, Nevy-boy, none of that. I got an..." Harry licked his lips. "...important proposition for ya', you hear?" Neville nodded and Harry let go of his chin. "Right-o. Good, ya' ready to listen Nevy-boy?" Neville felt his rare Gryffindor courage well up inside him as he lunged at Harry, who just sidestepped him and kicked him in the ribs. "Ah, c'mon Nevy-boy, if ya' didn't wanna do it, all ya' gotta do is say so!" Neville felt around for a weapon, and his hands landed on a discarded pair of scissors. Neville sneaked a glance at the scissors. They were rusted and looked to be falling apart, but they'd do as a temporary weapon for now. Neville curled his fingers around the scissors, and jumped up at Harry, slashing amateurishly at him. Harry narrowed his eyes and grabbed Neville's wrist, before giving it a quick, forceful twist. A rather loud crack rang out through the room and Neville cried out in pain, dropping the scissors and cradling his now broken wrist to his chest. "Are ya' done yet Neville? Or do I have to break both your wrists?" Neville backed away from Harry and whimpered.

"I-I... sorry. Um, how... how did you get in here? Who are you?" Harry smirked.

"Well, I broke in by picking the lock, and for who I am... well, you can call me Joker." Neville furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Joker?

"Joker...? Jo... Kerr! You're the wizard the goblins gave Harry's vault to!" Neville said, scrutinizing the wizard before him. Harry smiled.

"Ah yes, young Harry Potter. Poor bastard. Kinda sad that he's dead, we woulda been great friends." Harry giggled at his joke. Of course he and Harry Potter would have been friends! They were the same person! Well, at least that's what the goblins say. That ain't what he remembers though. But Harry's learned some things in the past few weeks. Never trust the goblins, or anyone for that matter, for anything.

"Y-Yeah, Harry was one of my best friends. We were in Gryffindor together..." Neville winced as his wrist gave a sharp jab of pain.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that Nevy-boy. Lemme fix it." Harry said, withdrawing an uncomfortably familiar wand from his coat pocket. Neville's eyes widened.

"T-That wand!" Harry ran a hand over his wand. He had woken up a few days ago to find the stick on his desk, calling to him. "T-Tell me, what's in it?" Harry grinned.

"Holly and Unicorn hair, thirteen and a half inches." He quickly lied about the exact make-up. Something told him that if he said what it was exactly made of, Neville would do something unpleasant, and he'd be forced to break the teen's other wrist. "She's a beaut, ain't she?" Neville sagged in sadness and a little relief. "Why didja wanna know?"

"It's... it's just, Harry had a wand that looked a lot like that one."

"Well, ain't that something!" Before Neville could stop him, Harry pointed the wand at his wrist. " _Episkey!_ " Neville knew the spell didn't heal the break completely, as that required a potion, but it did sooth the pain.

"Thanks..."

"Oh wow, can't believe that worked!" Harry laughed, pocketing his wand. "I only read up on that spell this morning! Man Nevy-boy, you're damn lucky, ya' know that?" Neville gulped. If that spell had malfunctioned, he could have killed them both! "Ah, but I knew I could do it."

"U-Um, your proposition? W-What is it?" Harry blinked and stared at him in confusion for a few, in Neville's opinion, terrifying seconds. He saw Harry mouth _'Proposition?'_ to himself before a large grin spread on his face.

"Oh yes! The proposition! The really really important one!" Harry dug around in his pockets and quickly flung his hand out at Neville, who flinched at the unexpected movement. "See this here?" Neville stared at the papers Harry held up to his face. "Right here. See it?" Harry jabbed a finger at a simple sentence written near the middle of the page.

"Note to self-" Neville read, gently grabbing the papers to steady Harry's excited shaking. "-ask someone like a botanist or a chemist- yeah someone like that!- to make the really cool gas stuff!" Neville raised a brow. "Really cool gas stuff?" Harry shrugged lightly.

"Well, if ya' can only make a liquid form, then that'll work too, 'cause I know how to make it into a gas."

"A-And, what exactly is it?" Harry snatched his papers back and scanned over them.

"Ah, oopsy! I forgot to write it down!" He folded the papers up and shoved them back into his pocket. "Oh well, ya' win some ya' lose some. So, Nevy-boy, the gist of it is, I want a formula that makes people laugh. One that makes 'em laugh a _**lot.**_ " Neville shivered at the implication of Harry's sentence.

"S-So something that makes people laugh?" Harry nodded with a smile. "I-I guess I can do that for a liquid form. Um, it shouldn't take that long, couple of m-months maybe... for sure by summertime..."

"Great! Don't worry Nev, you'll be rewarded handsomely for this! Ya' won't regret it!" Harry got out yet another piece of paper. "I just need ya' to sign this wee paper here, kapeesh?"

"W-What for?"

"Oh, it just says that you won't divulge any information on the product you are creating unless you're willing to forfeit your life." Neville swallowed roughly.

"I-I..."

"Just sign it Nevy-boy. I trust ya' to never say a word." Neville gave a small nod.

"Okay, um, do you have a quill?" Harry started laughing once again at the statement. "What's so funny?"

"No need for a pen or a quill Nev! All ya' gotta do is put a little blood right there in that box." Harry set the contract on the bed and pointed out said box. Neville leaned over a little to get a better look. Harry struck at that time, grabbing the boy's injured wrist and slashing it open with one of his hidden knives. Neville cried out as Harry chuckled, watching his blood fall all over the contract, the majority of it landing no where near the box. "There we go! Call one of ya' house elves and tell 'em to get you a potion or two. Then, I dunno, work on my project. I gotta go." Harry folded the bloodied paper up and placed it back into the pocket it came from.

"W-What the hell was that for!" Harry just smiled and waved, making his way back to the entrance. Neville followed after him.

"Oh yes! One last thing." Harry said, pausing at the door. "Nev, I want you to be my... informant in Hogwarts for next year, since it's a bit late for ya' to head back this year. It has been a while since I've been there. I wanna know all that goes on in there, got it? You'll get paid for it, of course. Anything ya' want for the information." Neville thought about it. Anything he wanted, for something as measly as information about Hogwarts? He could do that.

"If I do it..." Neville started, and Harry turned to him. "If I get you the information, could you get me some rare plant seeds or the plants themselves?" Harry started giggling.

"Oh Nevy-boy, I could get you the _**illegal**_ plants if ya' wanted!" Neville's eyes widened.

"T-The illegal ones? L-Like, the Obscura plant?"

"The plant that causes horrible hallucinations about total darkness? Black petals, kinda looks like a tulip?" Harry said, gesturing with his hands. Neville nodded. "Yeah, I can get ya' some. I know where to get wild ones." Neville's eyes lit up.

"I'll do it! Just get me those plants!" Maniacal laughter exploded out of Harry. Neville shivered and took a step back.

"Can do, Nevy-boy. They'll arrive in three weeks, I guarantee it." Harry ran a hand through his hair, and pulled out a playing card. "Here's my card. I'll see you soon, Nev."

* * *

A stark white van pulled up in front of a small London bank. Three masked men hopped out, each holding a handgun and a dufflebag. Each of their masks were painted like clowns. One of them stood close to the bank, his mask depicting a "Bozo" like face, and a few strands of odd green-dyed hair fell over the front of the mask.

"So, what's the plan?" One of the other men, his mask being a smiling clown, "Chuckles," asked.

"Well, Chuckles, the guy who hired us just asked to get some money and go." The last man, a "Grumpy" mask on his face.

"Che, the damn bastard thinks he can order us to do all the work, and then not show up himself?" Chuckles nodded.

"Yeah. Where's the other two?" Grumpy pointed to the back of the bank.

"They're disablin' the alarm."

"Hmm. Five shares even, huh?"

"Nah, six. Don't forget about the guy who hired us." They checked their guns before heading into the bank. Grumpy looked around before firing a few shots into the roof of the bank. "ALRIGHT! Everyone, heads up, hands down or else!" When no one listened to him he fired into the air once again. "I SAID! Hands up heads down! DO IT!" As everyone complied with Grumpy's orders, a static covered voice came from the radio hooked onto his belt. "Right you two, I'm heading down to the vault." He made his way to one of the tellers. "Hey lady! I'm making a huge withdrawal! Where's the vault at!" The woman shakily pointed down a hall. Grumpy nodded at Chuckles and Bozo before rushing down the hall. Chuckles walked towards the group of people, and reached into his bag.

"Alright people. We don't want you doing anything with your hands except holding on for dear life." He brought out a few grenades, dead ones, though no one in the bank aside from the robbers knew it. He gave everyone one, making sure they held onto it the right way, before making his way back to Bozo, who promptly shot him.

* * *

Behind the bank, two men, one in a "Happy" mask and the other in a "Dopey" mask were huddled around a metallic box, waiting for the silent alarm to trip, two large bags at their feet.

"Hey, why do they call him The Joker?" Happy asked. Dopey shrugged.

"I hear he wears makeup."

"Makeup?"

"Yeah, you know, 'war paint'. To scare people I think." Dopey looked down at the box, and then at a small square in his hands. "Here comes the silent alarm..." Dopey muttered, before he pushed a few buttons and cut a wire. "And there it goes! But hey, it wasn't heading to the nearest police station. Went to some private number."

"Well, it is a mob bank. But anyway, is it a problem that the call went somewhere else?" Dopey shook his head.

"Not at all. I'm done here." Dopey said, packing up his things.

"Oh, great." Happy said, before raising his gun and shooting Dopey in the back of the head. Happy grabbed the large bags, heading into the bank. He took several turns before finding the vault. He grabbed a radio from his pocket and said into it, "Oi, Grumps, I'm at the vault." He didn't get a response, but that didn't stop him. Happy dug through one of the bags, and pulled out a notepad, a pen, and a small stethoscope. Placing the stethoscope into his ears, he listened to the vault as he turned the lock on it. Every time he heard a click, he wrote down the number it clicked at.

"Happy, you almost done?" Grumpy said, stalking into the room.

"Yeah." Grumpy looked around for Happy's partner.

"Say, where's the other guy?"

"Boss told me to shoot him once he finished." Happy said, as the vault creaked open.

"Funny." Grumpy said, cocking his gun. "He told me something similar." Happy whipped around.

"What- no! NO!" He shouted, as Grumpy shot him once in the head. He holstered his gun before grabbing the bags and entering the vault. He quickly stuffed most of the money into the bag, leaving only a few wads of bills inside. The Joker had told them that some of the bills were police marked, and told them how to identify them. Grumpy looked around once again, before scampering off back to the front of the bank.

"Here is all of it. It's a lot, the boss should have given us a bigger van." Grumpy said, dropping the bags. Before Bozo could respond, a loud gunshot rang out. The two turned to look at the office cubicles, and spotted the owner of the bank, shotgun in hand.

"You son of bitches don't know who you're ripping off here, do you!" He fired at them, and they ducked behind an overturned table. The owner fired twice more at them, before he stalked forwards.

"How many bullets does he got left?" Grumpy asked.

"Ah, none." Bozo said quietly. Grumpy leaped to his feet, only to almost get shot. Grumpy dived back behind the table.

"Where the hell did you learn to count!" Grumpy shouted, before lifting his gun and, peeking over the table, fired at the owner. He aimed for the man's legs and abdomen, and, with a cry, the man fell onto his side. Grumpy stood and back away from Bozo, who had cocked his gun. "I'm guessing the boss told ya' to shot me after I finished my job, huh?" Bozo shook his head.

"No, no, I kill the bus driver."

"Bus driver?" Grumpy asked. Bozo jumped back, just in time to dodge a school bus that came crashing through the wall behind them. Grumpy got hit full-force by the bus, sending him flying back, either unconscious or dead. No one bothered to check. The backdoor of the bus opened, and a man in a "Smiley" clown mask jumped out.

"Whoops, didn't mean to hit the guy." Smiley said, as Bozo started hauling the bags of cash to the bus. Smiley helped throw the bags into the bus. "Hey, where's the other-" Bozo cut him off by firing a couple of rounds into his chest. The bank owner groaned and slowly lifted himself up just a bit.

"You're dead you know! Dead!" The owner shouted as Bozo walked towards him to grab the man's shotgun. "When your boss gets his cash, he'll kill you!" Bozo tilted his head.

"I don't believe he will do that." The bank owner hacked out a few harsh laughs.

"Then what do you believe! WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN!" Bozo chuckled under his breath.

"I believe..." He started, taking out a smoke grenade and shoving it into the man's mouth. "...that whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you..." Bozo ripped off his mask, letting his green hair land, disheveled, in front of his blazing eyes, and smirked. The man's eyes widened at the haphazardly red-painted scars on his cheeks. "... _ **stranger.**_ " He pulled the pin on the grenade, and, picking up the shotgun, made his way towards the bus. "It's been real fun. Tell your boss that the Joker says hi!" With that, Harry jumped into the bus, closing and locking the door shut behind him. He made his way to the front of the bus and, throwing himself into the driver's seat, slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. "Ya' know," He said to himself, as he merged into the traffic, following after a trail of other, kid-filled, school buses. "I think I like this job. Oh, I like it a lot."

* * *

**About Five Months Later**

Neville yawned and stirred the potion he was working on. He was actually quite competent at Potions class, but the teacher coupled with the fact that there were plenty of children there with him, made him make mistakes. Here, however, in his greenhouse, all alone, he could perform to the best of his ability. It wasn't much though, since he hadn't slept in a day and it was nearing eleven at night. Neville gave the potion one last stir before taking it off the burner. He dipped a small flask into it, filling it, and dragged his tired self over to a row of caged rats in the corner. The potion in the flask was a horrid green colour, a colour that reminded him of that Joker guy's hair. He ran a hand over one of the rats as he poured the potion into their water dish.

"Come on, have a drink..." He gently pushed one of them over to the dish. He hadn't given them any water for the past couple of hours, just to make sure they'd drink the finished potion. The rats sniffed the liquid before dipping their heads in and drinking quickly. Neville watched, fascinated, as they stared giving out several involuntary squeaks. It sounded rather odd, but he felt that they were laughing. After ten minutes of continuous squeaking, one by one they fell over. Neville checked their vitals, only to find that, out of the four rats in the cage, only one was still alive, and it was slowly dieing, unable to get air into it's lungs. Neville flinched. He must have made the potion to strong. _'Perhaps it's just that they're rats, that's why they died. I can't exactly test this on a person...'_ He thought, before he got out the card that the Joker gave him. He had used the better portion of the first month figuring out how to use the card to contact the Joker, and finally discovered how to contact him after a good three weeks. Neville took a breath and, as quick as he could, ran a piece of paper over his fingers, leaving a bleeding cut in them. He winced, and touched the card with his bleeding fingers. "It's done." He said, before removing his hand. The jester on the card smirked before it responded,

_"Good. I'll be there soon. I'll bring along a... volunteer."_ Neville shuddered and put the card onto the desk. He shook his head, and, with another yawn, made his way towards his makeshift bed for a couple of hours sleep.

* * *

Harry leaned back in his chair, and smiled. He hadn't pulled anymore heists, nor had he murdered someone, since his bank robbery five months ago. A playing card, the joker card that had rested on his desk since he visited Neville, glowed. Harry grabbed it and held it up to his ear.

_"It's done."_ Neville's voice came from the card, and Harry's smile morphed into a smirk.

"Good. I'll be there soon." His smirk widened. "I'll bring along a..." He eyed the small pager that sat next to a shattered empty picture frame. "...volunteer." He ripped the card in half and, snatching up the pager, started laughing, knowing that he'd frighten his goons that sat downstairs awaiting orders. He made his way downstairs, his laughs slowly becoming chuckles and giggles, and stared out at his men. "Men, I need a volunteer." The goons all looked at each other, frightened. "Not any of you, of course." Harry purred, and the goons visibly sagged in relief. "So get out there, and find me a volunteer. Male or female, I don't care. You have six hours to find me a suitable volunteer." Harry rolled his eyes when none of them moved a bit. "GET GOING!" He barked, and they all ran out the door. The pager in his hand vibrated, leading to another round of maniacal laughter from Harry as he read the message.

" _Boss, the ground team has located potential targets._ "

* * *

"B-Boss!" Harry looked towards the front door as his goons came rushing in. The one who shouted, a mousy looking fatter man, smiled. "We found you a volunteer boss!" Harry blinked, and looked at the clock hanging above what served as their kitchen.

"Great! It only took you three hours!" Harry stood, and brushed himself off. "So, who are we getting?" The men looked at each other before nodding.

"You know that gangster down the block? Uh, what's his name..." The mousy man furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "I think it was Carro or something."

"Carroni?" Harry guessed.

"Yeah! Anyway, Carroni, he was talking shit 'bout you boss! And, uh, we kinda forgot our weapons so we couldn't shoot the bastard, so we... we thought he'd be a good volunteer for you..." Harry smiled, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a rather large wad of cash.

"Good job boys! Here, go get yourselves a drink. I'll secure our volunteer." Harry tossed them the cash, and made his way towards the stairs.

"Thanks boss! Oh, yeah, tonight Carroni said he'd be all by himself 'cause his bitch ran out on him!" The mousy man said, before the goons headed out the door to get some drinks. Harry shook his head at their antics, and continued on his way upstairs. The pager, which now resided in his front pocket, vibrated again, sending him into a fit of giggles. He got out the pager, and pushed a button on it. A message rolled across the screen.

_"Boss, we got Carroni. Didn't put up much of a fight once we mentioned you._ " Another message rolled across before Harry could start giggling again. " _Boss, the pigs are closing in. Watch your back. We'll be there with Carroni in an hour or two._ " Harry let out a harrowing cackle as he continued climbing the stairs. He needed to get his coat and an alcohol flask. He had an appointment at the Axis chemical plant to get to.

* * *

Neville was awoken from his fitful sleep by someone laughing madly and someone else screaming as they opened his greenhouse's door. He stumbled to his feet, and looked at the clock. _'Who would be breaking into my house at three in the morning?'_ He sighed at the thought. There was only one person who would do something like that. The Joker. Neville stretched out, getting a few satisfying pops from his back, and made his way to the front of his house. Sure enough, there was Harry, grinning sinisterly, a tied up screaming muggle at his feet. Harry's eyes lit up, and Neville noticed that, unlike in their first meeting, he was wearing a pair of thin-rimmed glasses.

"Nevy-boy! I'm here, and I brought ya' a volunteer!" He kicked the muggle before him and grinned a little wider.

"Oh, J-Joker, you're here already?" Neville stuttered, unable to draw his eyes from the obviously in pain muggle that was now whimpering.

"Well of course I am! I said I'd be here soon, didn't I?" Neville nodded.

"Y-Yes, you did, but I thought you meant you'd be here a bit later. It is, uh..." He trailed off at the glint in Harry's eyes.

"Well, ya' see Neville, I have a lot of important things to do tomorrow. This was the only time I was free for the next week and a half." Harry said. _'Well, actually, I just wanted to see Nevy-boy's reaction to me breaking into his greenhouse at three in the morning.'_ Harry thought, snickering softly. "But anyway, Nevy-boy, were is it?"

"O-One second!" Neville shouted, dashing off to the side of the greenhouse. He came back less than a minute later, carrying the green liquid filled flask from before. "Here, um, I'm not sure it'll work on people yet, but, um, it worked on rats!" Harry chuckled, and kicked the still whimpering muggle onto his back.

"Then I guess l'il Carroni here will be ya' first human test subject!" Neville gulped as he watched Harry wrench open the muggle's jaw, and empty the entire flask into it. After about ten minutes of nothing, Harry turned to Neville with an angry glare. But before he could yell out a single word, the muggle began snickering. After a minute of snickers, he burst into full-blown laughter. Harry started laughing alongside the muggle, and Neville couldn't help but let out a few chuckles as well. Another couple of minutes passed before the man stopped laughing, breathing heavily. "Ah? Still alive? Well, that won't do. Say, Nevy-boy, do ya' have the instructions to this lovely concoction?"

"Y-Yes, I do. Um, I'll go get them..." Neville rushed off again as Harry tapped the muggle with his foot.

"Damn Carroni, you sure know how to survive." Harry muttered as Neville came running back with a few sheets of parchment in his hands. Neville panted as he handed the parchment over. "Thanks Nevy-boy!" Harry smiled and pocketed the parchment. "I'll review it at home. Ya' don't have to worry your little head any longer about this project. Now, about your reward..." Harry opened his coat and pulled out a small bag, filled to the brim with Galleons. He threw it to the ground in front of Neville. "Here ya' go. 120 Galleons, just as promised!" Neville sputtered at the sight of the Galleons. "What is it Nevy-boy? That ain't enough? I could give ya' some more if ya' want." Neville shook his head quickly.

"No, no! It's fine, it's just, 120 Galleons for one potion and some instructions?" Harry nodded.

"I see what you're getting at, Nevy-boy. Here," Harry pulled out another bag from his coat and threw it down next to the bag of Galleons. This bag, however, was filled with muggle currency. "500'000 British Pounds, that's enough, right? This was a big project after all." Neville felt like fainting at the all the money before him. "Sorry it ain't in Wizarding Currency, but I barely had enough time to get the 120 before meeting ya' here." Neville nodded dumbly.

"I... I, thanks?" Harry grinned and made his way over to the desk in the corner.

"Nevy-boy! Ya' didn't open my blackmail letter? C'mon, it has some great dirt in it!" Harry grabbed the unopened envelope, which now had a thin layer of dust covering it. "You wound me Nev! It took me a good four hours to get all the information!" He held the envelope out to Neville, who tentatively took it. Neville carefully opened the envelope, and peeked inside. He shrieked at the pictures of his grandmother, naked, with several men. He dropped the envelope and covered his eyes.

"T-That was horrible! Why did you?!" Harry started cackling.

"Oh, Nevy-boy! It's all natural! Don't take it too personal that your gran's a who-"

"SHUT UP!" Neville launched himself at Harry, who simply let the teen wrap his hands around his throat. "You! You, you horrible person!" Harry smirked.

"Co-o-ome on Ne-evy-boy! Is tha-at all you go-o-t?" Neville took a few deep breaths and let Harry go.

"Get out." Neville mumbled, backing away from Harry. Harry rubbed his throat and held a hand to his ear.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch that. What did ya' say?" Neville clenched his fists.

"I said get out! Get out of my greenhouse!" Harry laughed.

"Yes! Yes, Neville! Get angry! Hit me! Come on!" Neville glared and took a step forward.

"GET OUT!" Harry raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright. I'm going!" Harry bent down and grabbed the unconscious muggle by the back of his shirt and started dragging him to the front door. "And to think, I had an early birthday present for you!" Neville couldn't help but perk up at the mention of his birthday. He really didn't want to know how Harry knew when his birthday was.

"Present?" He decided to ignore the smirk that spread across Harry's face.

"Yes, a nice little present for you." Harry purred, reaching into his coat once again. He brought out a small flask, and held it up to Neville. "It's just some muggle alcohol, but I'm sure you'd like it." Neville felt himself reach out and grab the flask.

"Muggle... alcohol?" His gran had told him to never take to the bottle until he was 17. But she told him that after he took of sip of his uncle's fire-whiskey. Surely she only meant to never drink wizarding alcohol, right? Harry's smirk widened.

"Oh, yes. It is quite delicious." Harry got out another flask. "C'mon, I'll drink with you." He popped open his flask and held it up. "To a job well done?" Neville flicked his eyes to Harry's flask and back down to his before opening the lid of his and clinking it against Harry's.

"To a job... well done."

"Drink it all back in one full swoop, alright?" Neville nodded and, taking a deep breath, swigged down a good majority of the contents of the flask. He coughed a few times and dropped the flask as his head started pounding relentlessly. The flask hit the ground and the remaining bit of drink in it splashed out, the green liquid forming a line as it ran towards a drain in the floor. Harry started howling with laughter and pocketed his _**water-filled**_ flask. Neville fell to his knees and tried to breathe. "Aw, poor Mistah Longbottom, dieing all alone in a dreary greenhouse! Didn't your mommy tell you to never accept candy from strangers?" Harry kicked Neville in the side, making the teen land roughly on his side. "This is such a shame Neville, but I don't need your help anymore. Not even at Hogwarts, I'll figure out another way to get there. Ya' know far too much! Too bad, I kinda liked you!" The edges of Neville's vision blackened as Harry started dragging the muggle to the door once again. The last thing he saw before his eyes slid shut was Harry laughing as he closed the door.

* * *

Neville took a deep breath as he got to his feet shakily. He grabbed onto one of his stronger plants and steadied himself before opening his eyes.

"What... what happened here?" Neville wondered out loud to himself. The plant under his hand shuddered in response. "Oh... I see. The Joker double crossed me... huh?" He blinked and stared at the plant. "D-Did you just...?" The plant shook once again and a whispered voice floated into his head. "Y-You're speaking!" A flood of voices came into his mind after he shouted. Neville looked around at all the plants and smiled. "Y-You all are speaking! Oh wow, it's like a dream come true! But wait... the Joker he..." Neville looked around for the elusive purple-wearing man and frowned. "Where did he go?" Neville's eyes roamed over to the front of the greenhouse, and landed on the empty flask near the door, where he had dropped it earlier. He walked towards it and grabbed it, raising it up to inspect it. Neville sniffed the flask's opening and frowned. "He tried to poison me with..." Neville sniffed once again. "...with what though?" The flask smelt rather bitter and mouldy. How had he not noticed the smell when he drank it? That's when he smelt something underneath the bad smells, a fruity perfume-like smell. "He... he tricked me." Neville threw the flask away from him angrily. The plants whispered into his ear. "I... yes. Of course. But... I cannot get close to him. He most likely thinks I am dead." They continued to whisper. "...I'm not sure. Maybe. I'll need my gran's help though..." He smiled and started on his way to the door, intent on heading back up to the manor. He stepped on something round-ish, making him almost fall over. Lifting his foot, he spotted a single Galleon laying innocently next to an overturned playing card. Neville bent down and picked up the two items, pocketing the Galleon and turning over the playing card. He grit his teeth at the jester grinning up at him, a short message scrawled childishly below it,

_"Poor Mistah Longbottom, wiltin' just like a flower!"_

* * *

Neville fidgeted outside of the manor's front door. It must have been sometime after seven at night, since the manor grounds surrounding him were darkening quickly. He took a few seconds to compose himself before he grabbed one of the knockers and banged it loudly. The door cracked open a few seconds later, and his gran poked her head out, looking worse for wear.

"N-Neville?" She whispered, staring at him. Neville gave her a small smile.

"Yeah gran, it's me." Neville had no time to react before her arm snaked out and she slapped him hard. He blinked and raised a hand to his cheek. "What-"

"You're damn lucky I don't Avada you where you stand!" She shouted, making Neville's eyes widened. "You worried me so much you brat!" She pulled him into a hug and Neville's mind blanked. _'She... she hit me! And now she's... hugging me?'_ He furrowed his brow.

"Gran? Why'd you...?" She let him go and shook her head as she moved out of the doorway.

"Never you mind. Now, come in, you must be hungry, right?" Neville nodded and made his way around her. He glanced around as he walked towards the dining room. "Nippy!" His gran shouted, as they entered the dining room. The small house elf appeared with a soft pop and bowed.

"Nippy is here!"

"Nippy, please, prepare some..." His gran trailed off, and she turned to look at him. "Neville, what would you like to eat?"

"Oh, a salad would be marvellous."

"Nippy, go make Neville a salad, and be quick!"

* * *

Neville stared down at the new wand in his hand, as his gran ushered him into a side booth of some restaurant. He hadn't paid much attention to what it was composed of. His gran had forced him to go to Diagon Alley with her, to get him supplies for the next Hogwarts year. His gran had told the staff and Headmaster that she had pulled him out unexpectedly for training, so he'd know enough for the future. As if they'd believe that lie. But the Headmaster just smiled sadly and nodded, allowing Neville to return for his fourth year. A patch of sunlight, filtering in through the rather dirty window, lit up the table. Neville glanced around and, noting that his gran was up at the front ordering, placed his empty hand in the light. After a few seconds, he noticed a barely there green tinge to his skin, and he frowned. What was it?

"Neville, our orders will arrive in a little bit. I do hope you don't mind, but I ordered you a simple salad, since you appeared to enjoy the one you had last night." His gran said, as she sat across from him. Neville smiled a little and nodded. He had spent a good majority of the time eating last night picking out the little pieces of meat in the salad. He had taken a few bites with the meat, but found himself disgusted at the thought of it.

"I don't mind gran. When are we picking up the curriculum books?"

"After lunch."

* * *

"Are you alright Neville?" His gran asked, the moment they stepped through the door later that evening. Neville shook his head softly.

"I'm just a little tired. I'm going to head off to my room, get a little extra sleep."

"Well, hopefully you are well rested for tomorrow. The Weasley's are coming over. We are going to the World Quidditch Cup with them." Neville tilted his head. He had not agreed to do anything of the sort.

"Oh. I will be, gran." With one last nod in her direction, Neville made his way upstairs to his bedroom. Once inside, he carefully removed the jumper he had been wearing and hung it over a small chair by his homework desk. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a shrunken copy of the Daily Prophet, placing it on the desk before gently tapping his new wand to it and enlarging it. Once it was at its regular size, Neville opened it and scanned the articles. He had noticed an article that mentioned plants inside it, which was the only reason he bothered to buy the paper. Usually he didn't bother with the Prophet. "There it is..." He trailed off as he read the plant related article. His eyes narrowed into a glare the more he read. "This... This is!" He threw the paper away from him. "They're murdering innocent plants!" The paper landed on the floor a ways away from Neville, aided on by a small burst of anger-induced magic. The article on the page read,

" _ **THE HARRY POTTER FUND TO BUILD HOUSES FOR THE UNFORTUNATE!**_

_Author: Rita Skeeter_

_The Harry Potter Fund, a new fund founded by the Ministry and the recently freed Sirius Black, has decided to build a series of houses on the outskirts of Hogsmeade for the unfortunate Witches and Wizards who are unable to..."_

* * *

Neville stormed out of the manor, despite it being dark out, and made his way to his greenhouse. His thoughts were all focused on the article. He needed to save those plants! He slammed open his greenhouse door and kicked it closed behind him. He went to the cluttered desk, absently grabbing a large brown paper bag from beside the door, and sat down. He opened the bag and pulled out a sleek black spandex-like two-piece suit. He had bought it in Diagon earlier under the guise that he needed a new gardening suit, one that fit better and allowed better movement. He really did need a new one, as he had outgrown his old one a while ago. He had developed a bit of muscle from repeatedly picking up his plants and carrying them across the greenhouse. This new suit was spelled to grow with him and resize itself right off the bat to fit to his form. He got out his wand and used a slightly modified permanent colour-change charm to change the left shoulder of the top and right leg of the bottoms to a nice grass-green colour. He held up the newly coloured suit and nodded appreciatively at it.

"Neville?" He turned to the door at the sound his gran's voice and a soft knock. "Neville, please, don't lock yourself up in there again..."

"Don't worry gran!" He shouted out to her, shoving the suit back into the bag and standing. "I just... forgot to water a few of the plants today!" The lie rolled easily off his tongue. "I'll be out soon!" He heard her sigh in relief before walking off. Neville continued listening for a little while longer, before turning to his plants. "You guys, can you help me with a quick something?" The plants whispered their affirmative and Neville smiled. "Great! I need armour. Um, some of the more magical plants... can you lend me some of your leaves?"

* * *

It was near midnight that night when Neville exited his greenhouse, wearing his new costume. Covering his chest and upper-back was a piece of armour made from magic resistant and strengthened leaves, shaped like a muggle bullet-proof vest. In his hands was his new wand and a yellow utility belt, filled with different sorts of plant-related items. He placed his wand into a holster attached to the utility belt before clasping it around his waist. He sneaked into the manor and made his way towards the still roaring fire, grabbing a handful of floo powder as he went. He threw the powder into the flames with a shout of "Hog's Head!," stepped into the now green fire, and was whisked away to his destination. He tumbled out of the Hog's Head Inn's fireplace seconds later. The late-night patrons barely glanced at him as he made his way out the door, quickly casting a _Scourgify_ on his costume to clear away the soot. They had seen stranger things before.

* * *

Neville stalked down the road, semi-hidden in the shadows. After about a half hour of walking, he reached the place where the houses were going to be built. He bit back an angry and anguished cry at all the plants that were already dug up. He scowled and, with a magic-enforced kick, broke open the gate separating him and the yard. He gripped his wand tightly and prowled through the grounds. He stopped in front of the dug-up earth, and reached into his utility belt, pulling out a few dark yellow seeds. "Go, my babies..." He whispered as he threw the seeds into the dirt pile.

"HEY! Who's over there!" Someone shouted from a guardhouse set up a few metres away. " _Lumos!_ " A bright beam of light swept over Neville, who simply stood there. "Oh! Mister Longbottom, why, I almost didn't recognize-"

" _Silencio!_ " Neville swiped his wand at the guard. _'Time to test out that spell I read about earlier...'_ Neville turned to the silenced guard and raised his wand up. "It's nothing personal. _Sectumsempra!_ " He slashed downwards, and the guard jumped off to the side. Nothing seemed to happen at first, until the guard started bleeding from multiple tiny cuts leading up his arm. " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " A shovel that sat in the dirt above the guard lifted, before slamming down on the man's head, rendering him unconscious.

"Mike? Hey, Mike, where'd you go?" Another guard shouted into the darkness. " _Lum-_ " He was cut off by a low rumbling coming from the dirt next to Neville. Thick vines shot out of the dirt, the end of each holding a clamping mouth much like a Venus Fly-trap, and leading to a larger mouth which served as it's 'body'. Neville smiled and caressed a vine that swooped down at him.

"You're so pretty my dear..." The vine wrapped around him lovingly, before striking out quickly at the the other guard. The guard dodged and stared up at the vine in fright.

"What the hell is that!" The guard scrambled to his feet to dodge the vine once again, and raised his wand. " _Reducto!_ " The mouth on the end of the vine was blasted off, and the plant seemed to screech. The guard raised his wand at Neville, only to discover that the boy was now in front of him, fist raised. His fist slammed into the guards face, a loud crunch signified his broken nose, and sent him back a few feet.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Neville shouted. "You hurt her! You son of a bitch!" The guard stared at Neville.

"L-Longbottom? What the-"

"You think you can just harm my child and get away with it!"

"C-Child? Longbottom that's a pla-" The guard was cut off by Neville jabbing his wand angrily at him.

" _REDUCTO!_ " The guard screamed as the strength of the spell sent him flying, breaking a few of his ribs. The guard landed near the guardhouse, and, in his last few moments of consciousness, raised his wand at activated a silent alarm that called the Aurors. Neville disregarded the man, and turned to his plant. "Oh, my dear, are you alright?" He murmured, walking up to the plant's main body and gently patting it. The plant shuddered under his touch. "That must have hurt. Are you okay?" Before the plant could respond, a couple of cracks sounded out from behind him.

" _Stupefy!_ " A collective call ran out, and several red lights whizzed towards him. Neville ducked under a few of them, but some struck his armour, the spell itself making him fall over, though it did not affect him.

"Who is this nut?" Someone said, as they walked up to him. "Wait, aren't you that Longbo-" The Auror never finished his sentence as Neville jabbed his wand up with a shout of,

" _Reducto!_ " As the Auror flew back, Neville jumped to his feet, protectively standing in front of his dear plant.

"Why is the Longbottom boy here? What is he doing?" One of other Aurors asked, as they all raised their wands.

"What I want to know is where he learnt the Reductor Curse from!" The Aurors lifted their wands a bit higher. "On three! One! Two!" Neville slashed his wand down at this point.

" _Sectumsempra!_ "

"Shit! He knows Dark curses! Stun 'im everyone! Now!" Most of the Aurors raised their wands and sent a _Stupefy_ at Neville's chest, the prime target for a stunning spell. Neville patted his plant and attempted to get hit by every stunner sent, as he was the one with the magic-resistant leaf armour, so his plant wouldn't get hurt anymore. One of the Aurors noticed his protective stance in front of the plant.

"Guys! Distract him!" The rest of Aurors continued to send stunner after stunner, allowing the man to make the wand movements for the _Incendio_ spell. With a final jerk of his wand, aiming up towards the top of the plant, he shouted, " _INCENDIO!_ " Neville, despite his wish to save his plant, jumped out of the way of the spell on reflex. The spell quickly lit his precious plant on fire.

"NO! My plant!" Neville ran forward to save his plant.

" _Stupefy!_ " One of the Aurors shouted, and the spell clipped Neville on the back of his head, sending him spiralling forwards, teetering on unconsciousness. "Grab him! Get him to the holding cells! Someone cast an _Auguamenti_ on that fire!"

* * *

Neville sat on the dingy old bed in the holding cell under the Auror Corps' station. His wand and utility belt had been taken from him, along with his armour. He stared at his clenched fists, noting rather absently that his skin had taken a more greenish tinge than earlier, and sighed. He had been so close. He almost saved those plants from murder. He opened one of his fists, and rolled the small yellow-green seed there around his fingers. At least he had gotten a seed from an almost extinct plant while he was there. Now all he needed was some dirt and water, and he could revive this plant. Someone tapped on the bars of his cell.

"Why, _Mistah_ Longbottom! How'd you get arrested so quickly?" Neville jumped to his feet and snarled at the familiar voice.

"YOU!" Neville shoved his fist through the bars, trying to hit the grinning green-haired teen on the other side.

"Aw, c'mon Nevy-boy. Didn't ya' miss me?"

"Joker! You son of a-"

"Ah-ah-ah! None of that language Mistah Longbottom." The Joker sighed. "And to think, I came all the way from my hideout to see ya'. And this is the welcome I get!"

"You tried to kill me!"

"That was a..." The teen licked his lips. "...a mistake. A misunderstanding."

"YOU POISONED ME!" The Joker glared at him.

"No, I made you better." The glare vanished and was replaced with a smile. "Did you like my gift?" Neville backed away from the bars.

"...it does have it's benefits." Green eyes glittered in amusement.

"I am surprised though! To survive that. Ya' must be like me in some ways." Neville frowned.

"I am nothing like _you._ "

"Fine, fine. I just meant that it's like, we're rather alike, 'cause I survived the same thing." His head tilted to the right. "Oh, there's my cue to go." Neville blinked.

"Go?" The Joker grinned and waved cheekily at him.

"Well, say hello to your parents for me Nevy-boy!" And then he was gone, as if he wasn't there in the first place. Neville rubbed his eyes and stared at the spot where he once was.

"My... parents?" He muttered, just as several Aurors burst into the cell, one of them sending a silent _Incarcerous_ at him.

"Well Longbottom, looks like you get the room next to your parents in St. Mungos. You'd like that, won't you?" The lead Auror said, as he gestured for someone to levitate Neville out of the cell. "Enjoy your stay in the St Mungos loony bin brat. We're working on getting a prison made up, just for freaks like you." Neville glared at the man as he was levitated past him. _'At least I still have my seed...'_


End file.
